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Kenny by Leona Dalrymple




Author of _Diane of the Green Van_, _The Lovable Meddler_

Illustrated by Joseph Pierre Nuyttens

The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago

Second Printing September 10, 1917

[Frontispiece: Joan]


I Brian Rebels II The Unsuccessful Parent III In the Gay and Golden Weather IV God's Green World of Spring V At the Blast of a Horn VI In the Garret VII The Blossom Storm VIII Joan IX Adam Craig X A Notebook XI The Cabin in the Pines XII Thraldom XIII Kenny's Truth Crusade XIV In Somebody's Boat XV In Which Caliban Scores XVI Tantrums XVII Kenny Disappears XVIII Brian Solves a Problem XIX Samhain XX The Chair by the Fire XXI The Shadow of Death XXII In the Cabin XXIII A Miser's Will XXIV Digging Dots XXV Checkmate! XXVI An Inspiration XXVII Miser's Gold XXVIII Kenny's Ward XXIX The Studio Again XXX Playtime XXXI Fate Stabs XXXII On Finlake Mountain XXXIII In the Span of a Day XXXIV A Face XXXV The Penitent XXXVI April XXXVII Honeysuckle Days XXXVIII Arcady Eludes a Seeker XXXIX The Tension Snaps XL The King of Youth XLI When the Isle of Delight Receded XLII The End of Kenny's Song


Joan . . . . . . Frontispiece

He was sailing across, to romance he hoped, and surely to mystery

"'Tis Samhain, Adam," said Kenny, "the summer ending of the druids"

"I love you better than my life," Joan said, "and I may--may never--say it again"




"You needn't repeat it," said Brian with a flash of his quiet eyes. "This time, Kenny, I mean to stay disinherited."

Kennicott O'Neill stared at his son and gasped. The note of permanency in the chronic rite of disinheritance was startling. So was something in the set of Brian's chin and the flush of anger burning steadily beneath the dark of his skin. Moreover, his eyes, warmly Irish like his father's, and ordinarily humorous and kind, remained unflinchingly aggressive.

With the air of an outraged emperor, the older man strode across the studio and rapped upon his neighbor's wall for arbitration.

"Garry may be in bed," said Brian,

"And he may not." It was much the same to Kenny.

He was a splendid figure--that Irishman. His gorgeous Persian slippers curled at the toes and ended in a pair of scarlet heels. The extraordinary mandarin combination of oriental magnificence and the rags he affected for a bathrobe, hung from a pair of shoulders noticeably broad and graceful. If he wore his frayed splendor with a certain picturesque distinction, it was the way he did all things, even his delightful brogue which was if anything a shade too mellifluous to be wholly unaffected. What Kenny liked he kept if he could, even his irresponsible youth and gayety.

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